


1-800-JEAN

by flamiefinnigan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamiefinnigan/pseuds/flamiefinnigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco finds a number written in a gas station bathroom. Being the dweeb that he is, he calls it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tossed and turned in the end, with no one to talk to  
> I searched again and again, but I never found you  
> I cried and the tears fell from my eyes like a waterfall  
> And I swear I could feel you in my arms, but there was no one there at all
> 
> Up All Night - Owl City

Marco hated public bathrooms. The faded sharpie inscriptions on the stalls was just one of the reasons.

He sighed as writing blocked a corner of his reflection in the mirror above one of the sinks. "Really?" he muttered. "You just  _had_  to write on the mirror, too." He narrowed his eyes at the graffiti.

It featured a phone number with the caption _call for a good time._

Marco stood there for a moment, considering, before a mischievous grin spread across his face. He pulled out his phone and saved the number.

\---------------------------------------------

Sitting in his apartment, he could hear the ringer on the other end. He snickered to himself. Dumb kids in dumb gas station bathrooms. This guy didn't know what he had got himself into.

"Y'ello?"

The voice on the line was older than Marco had expected, and that caught him off guard. But he didn't lose his cool. Nope. "Hey there. I saw your number in the bathroom-"

A laugh erupted through the speaker so loud Marco had to hold the phone away from his ear. "You mean at that Citgo where- and you  _actually_  called the number?" The voice said incredulously through his laughter. "You're something else. What exactly were you expecting?"

 _You to be ashamed of yourself_ , Marco thought. He hesitated. Should he come clean, or keep the act up? "A good time," he said, deadpan. Better play along.

That only sent the guy into more peals of laughter. "You're great," he said. "What's your name anyway?"

"Marco. Hey, how do you know I'm not some creeper who's gonna hunt you down and stalk you or whatever?"

"Because a stalker wouldn't have just asked me that. I'm Jean." Marco could hear his grin through the phone. "You said you wanted a good time?"

Marco's eyes widened. He was serious! "Yeah..." No going back now.

"Well, I just so happen to have a buddy pass to Silver Dollar City. Whaddaya say, buddy?"

Now it was Marco's turn to laugh. Was this guy for real? "Well, how do  _I_  know  _you're_  not a creeper?"

"You don't," Jean said nonchalantly. "I live about an hour away from Branson. How fast can you get here?"

"Are you serious?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm serious. I got season passes and no friends. Those aren't a good mix."

Marco sighed.  _It's summer. I guess I've not really got anything else to do, anyway_. "It's a six hour drive."

"Get packing, man. You wanted a good time, and you're gonna get it. I want you down here by the end of the week." It was Thursday. No problem.

"How long should I pack for, then?"

"However long you're gonna be here."

He chuckled. "All right."

"Get to it, man!" Before he could reply, Jean hung up.

Marco held the dead line up for a moment before ending it. He definitely did not expect for the call to turn out that way. He was going to an amusement park with a complete stranger! Was that even real?

\---------------------------------------------

Jean tapped his pencil against his leg anxiously. The last time Marco had sent him a text was... Two hours ago.

"He should  _be_  here by now," he groaned aloud.

He swung his legs up over the back of the couch and laid on the cushions, staring at the TV upside-down. Flipping aimlessly through the channels, he anticipated the usually annoying sound of the doorbell reverbrating through his stationary trailer home.

Impatient, he clumsily reached for his phone across the sofa, holding the device in the air over his head to send a message.

**(Sent): where are you**

The response came less than a minute later.

**Marco: I'm like half an hour away, but traffic is completely stopped. I'm bored outta my mind**

Jean cursed. He wished Marco could see the grimace on his face as he replied.

**(Sent): just drive off the road**

He sighed. He wanted his solitude to end ASAP, and all these bumps in the road were frustrating him. Here he finally got the chance to make a friend for once, maybe even a _good_  friend, and fate (if you want to call it that) was procrastinating.

**Marco: on it**

**(Sent): you're not serious**

**Marco: no, I'm not serious. I wish I could**

Jean chuckled. This dude was a piece of work.

**Marco: we have liftoff!**

**Marco: nevermind**

Marco was on his way. Forcing a smile and taking a breath, Jean told himself to calm down. He didn't keep breakable antiques around for a reason. He went to the kitchen and made himself a bowl of ramen noodles.

Upon his return, Jean found a new message awaiting him. Marco had sent a picture of the buildup of cars on the road with the caption  **construction! :D**

**(Sent): damn**

**Marco: a guy just got out of his car and ran a lap around it before getting back in**

**(Sent): don't talk about yourself in the 3rd person, it sounds conceited**

**Marco: hahaha**

**Marco: it really wasnt me**

**Marco: I'm considering it though**

**(Sent): do it**

It was about five minutes before Marco replied.

**Marco: did 3. I like to live on the edge**

What a dweeb. Jean laughed and sent a thumbs-up emoji.

After scooping the last of the ramen into his mouth, he placed the empty bowl in the coffee table and stretched out across the couch. Waiting sucked. He stared up at the ceiling and took another breath. _Think calming, happy thoughts._

_Marco is coming._

Jean awoke nearly an hour later to a buzzing on his stomach. He unlocked his phone.

**Marco: I turn left on maple, yeah?**

Jeans stomach did a backflip.

**(Sent): yeah**

**(Sent): third lot on your right**

**(Sent): little house, big backyard**

**Marco: least you've got a whole house**

Jean wouldn't really call it a 'whole house,' but it wasn't half bad. No complaints. Well, if he did complain, he'd be back in with his parents. He already had no friends, all he needed was to be a 22 year old mooching off his mom and dad. Not happening.

He heard the sound of crunching gravel out front. He jumped up and tried not to look too overly excited. Footsteps sounded up the cinder block front stairs.

Marco tentatively rang the doorbell.

Immediately, the door sprang open. In unison, a smile spread across each of their faces. Compulsively, Jean threw his arms around Marco, engulfing him in a hug.

"You're here!" he said joyfully.

"I'm here," Marco laughed, hugging him back as if they had known each other all their lives.

Jean released him and pointed at the pickup truck in the driveway. "Want me to help you with your stuff?"

"I would appreciate it," said Marco with a smile.

Jean grinned and looked back as he strode toward the truck. "You better get some sleep after that drive, because we're leaving bright and early tomorrow morning!"

Marco raised his hand in a mock salute. "Yes, sir!"

\---------------------------------------------

The whole hour trip they talked.

They talked about anything that came to their minds, and neither got bored of the other. A whole hour of basking in only each other's company.

Sometimes Marco would say something and Jean would look at Marco and just smile and Marco would tell Jean to keep his eyes on the road. And sometimes Marco would watch Jean as he drove and study all his features like the way his brow furrowed when he talked about something that made him mad and how he had a horsey face but Marco thought that made him more interesting.

They dumped their stuff at the hotel and left for the park after breakfast. Jean had to inwardly laugh as Marco pointed out all the buildings he already knew, like the Titanic and Ripley's Believe it or Not.

"We'll have to come by while we're up here," he said with a grin, and Marco beamed with delight.

From the moment they set foot inside, Marco wouldn't stop smiling, and Marco smiling made Jean smile. It made Jean feel good to have a reason to smile.

Until they hit the coasters.

Jean dragged Marco on the Powder Keg first, which may or may not have been a mistake. The whole time, Jean could hear Marco's yelling being drowned in the wind beside him.

Jean laughed and threw his fists in the air. "Whoooo!!"

"You're crazy!" Marco yelled, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Completely out of my mind!" Jean confirmed.

After that, Marco made Jean vow to never take him on a roller coaster. He knew Jean had his fingers crossed, though.

Jean refused to go on the Giant Barn Swing, and that made Marco want to try it even more.

Never again.

They finally retreated to Geyser Gulch, beelining past kids that barely reached their waists to shoot foam balls across the room at each other. Jean landed one right at Marco's face, sending him down.

Jean cursed. "Marco!"

Marco popped up at a different cannon across the room. "Polo!" he yelled, shooting a ball to his stomach.

"Jerk!" Jean laughed, sending a bombardment of foam bullets in Marco's direction. Then, he suddenly stopped. Marco followed his frantic gesture to go over to where he was. "Get down!" he whispered loudly.

They crouched down and peered through the barred wooden railing. "What is it?" Marco whispered back.

"You see them?" Jean pointed at a girl with an auburn ponytail following a short bald dude into the ground level, under the balconies where they were, of the large, noisy room.

"Yeah."

"That's Sasha and Connie. I graduated high school with them. I dunno how they got their timing so good, but..." He turned to Marco, a devilish grin on his face. "They're in the perfect position for a sneak attack."

Marco nodded, returning his look. He dashed back to the other side of the balcony and loaded the cannon.

"Hey, Potato Girl!"

Marco, Sasha, and Connie all turned their heads to look at Jean.  _So that's the approach he's taking,_  Marco thought, returning his concentration to where he wanted the ball to hit: Connie's bald head.

"Jean?" Sasha called, obviously confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to beat your sorry-"

"FIRE!" Marco yelled, seeing if he could catch Jean off guard and mess up his aim. The plan went seamlessly well for him, because not only did he startle Jean, but Sasha and Connie as well. They yelled as they were pelted with the foam balls, picking them up and throwing them back. Then Sasha darted towards the stairs leading to the upper level, Connie on her heels.

"ABORT MISSION!" Jean yelled, abandoning his post and pushing Marco toward the stairwell up. They took refuge, panting and laughing, in a landing with a simplified telescope in the wall.

"Do- do you think they'll find us here?" Marco asked.

"I've got- no idea," Jean replied, out of breath. He looked up at Marco and grinned.

"Thanks, Jean," Marco said.

"For what?"

"What do you mean, for what? For all this," Marco waved his hands in a wide gesture. "For a good time." He beamed.

Jean smirked back. "Anytime, man." He paused. "Hey, Marco?"

"Yeah?"

"What would- what would you think if I-"

"THERE YOU ARE!" Connie and Sasha ran at Jean, tackling him to the ground. Marco played the innocent bystander and tried to control his laughter as Jean pried them off of him of him and stood up.

"Long time, no see, Jean!" Connie said cheerfully, arms outstretched.

"I just saw you guys in May."

"That's a long time!" Sasha pouted.

"Six weeks."

"A long time!"

"So where'd he come from?" Connie asked, jerking his thumb at Marco.

"Oh, yeah. Guys, this is my friend Marco." Marco waved a little.

"You have friends?" Connie teased. Sasha elbowed him. "Sorry."

Jean narrowed his eyes a bit but waved it off.

They stuck with Sasha and Connie the rest of the day, until about 4 pm, when Marco felt like he was half dead on his feet.

"Hey lets go back to the hotel, for a bit, okay?" he pleaded. "We can come back tomorrow." Jean agreed and they left.

When they got back, Marco planted himself face-first on the bed with a sigh.

"Tired?" Jean teased.

"Am I ever," Marco replied. "I feel like I could sleep for  _years."_

Jean laughed. "Well I hope you won't, because I-" he broke off.

Marco looked up. "What?"

"Well, no. It's just me being- never mind."

"No, now you've mentioned it and you've got me curious so you have to tell me." He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

"Fine. I was gonna ask you to come live with me."

Marco looked at him for a moment. Then he laughed.

"Hey, I told you to never mind but you didn't listen!"

"No, I'm not laughing because I think it's dumb." He beamed. "Jean, where would I go to school?"

"I dunno. With me, I guess."

Marco sighed. "I can't do that. I'm sorry."

"Oh. Okay."

Marco stood up. "But I would totally spend the whole summer here," he said.

"What? Don't you have family or something? People who'd miss you?"

Marco smiled sadly at the floor. "Not really. My parents live in California. The most I see of them is post cards."

"Oh." Jean pondered this. Then he smiled. "Well, you can spend all summer with me, if you wanna."

Marco smiled back at him. "Sounds great."

"Hey Marco?"

"Yeah?"

"I- thanks."

"What are you thanking me for? You're the one who brought me to Branson."

"For helping me not feel lonely."

Marco stared at him. Then he stepped forward and pulled Jean to him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Jean smiled and hugged him back.

"Thanks for not letting me be alone," Jean whispered.

\---------------------------------------------

Jean sat bolt upright and realized he had been crying. Apparently, he had been so engrossed in his reverie that he didn't notice the tears streaming down his face. He hurriedly wiped them away.

He rose from the couch and walked to the kitchen, bare feet pattering on the floor with each step. He glanced at the knife on the counter, then pushed it shakily away, biting his lip. He wouldn't. Not now. He had been so happy.

He tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands, wincing as a loose string snagged a thin, newly formed scab. He stared down at his feet. Wandering aimlessly through his solitary trailer home, he tried not to think about how empty it was or look at the Silver Dollar City passes, sent from his parents, sitting on the coffee table, for fear of the knife in the kitchen.

Six hours away, Marco, on his shift at a Citgo gas station, rubbed at some pesky graffiti on a mirror in the men's bathroom, the numbers and letters blurring and fading away in bleach.


	2. An Extremely Short Afternote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because, I agree, that was a cruel way to end a story.

A bell tied to the top of the door clanged as it opened and closed, letting another person through. Pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down to his fingertips, he wove through the shelves in the gas station, grabbed three bags of beef jerky, and placed them on the checkout counter, his gaze confined to his shoelaces. 

"That's a lot of jerky."

He simply grunted in reply, paying and reaching for the bag. The cashier caught his arms, gently touching the marks on his arm. He looked up. 

The cashier's freckles accented his black hair ans warm brown eyes as he gave him a small, kind smile.

"You have so much to live for," Marco said softly. 

Right then, in that Citgo gas station, Jean realized that he still did. 


End file.
